What's Mine Is Yours To Make Your Own
by Tropical Medlies
Summary: Nine chronological snippets of Fiona and Imogen's life together, from high school to parenthood. One-shot.


1. The urge to drink gets really strong one day after Fiona gets turned down for the the third job in a row, fails a test, and gets even more bad news about her mom's house arrest. Somehow, using her near fool-proof Coyne charm, Fiona manages to procure a bottle of champagne. When describing the room, deep breathing, and painting her nails doesn't work, and Holly J doesn't pick up, she knows she has to call Imogen.

As soon as Imogen catches sight of the bottle, she grabs the it, shoves it under her shirt - letting out a squeal at how cold it is - so that Fiona can't get it, and locks herself in the bathroom, only coming out after she's poured all of the alcohol down the toilet.

Underneath Fiona's annoyance and slight desperation there's thankfulness; she's so glad that Imogen hasn't just run straight for the hills as soon as her drinking problems have arisen. They spend the next few hours sitting on the couch and going over the reasons why Fiona wanted to drink in the first place and then figuring out other things she could do in place of drinking that would be far more beneficial. (Kissing is one of them. Imogen suggests this one often.)

—

2. When they graduate, they go to separate universities. Imogen stays in Toronto and goes to OCAD (the Ontario School of Art and Design) to pursue a career in art and photography. And Fiona? Fiona finds herself stuck at a crossroads at the end of her senior year. She's not sure if she wants to stay in Toronto - her admitted home, after all - or if she wants to attend college back in the states, where she's always pictured herself going. Eventually, with much prompting from Imogen, Eli, Declan, and Holly J to pursue her dreams, and many, many favors called in from family friends, Fiona finds herself enrolled in Parsons, an off-shoot of New York University, famously dedicated to fashion design.

It's not easy to be separated, but the two of them make it work through texting, daily phone calls, and nightly Skype sessions. There are times when the distance almost seems too much, like when Fiona pays too much attention to the people in the background during their Skype session, or when Imogen's one-word responses finally frustrate Fiona enough to hang up the phone. Their little spats don't last long, though, and Fiona will call Imogen back and apologize for not paying attention while her roommate was blathering on about her boyfriend of the moment, or Imogen will text to say that she's sorry she was so focused on a painting that she couldn't spare a minute to hear about how Fiona's latest work was praised by her toughest professor.

It's only 500 miles. They make it work. They see each other during holidays and long weekends and sometimes Fiona will skip certain classes and surprise Imogen by waiting for her outside of her classroom, and sometimes Imogen will bribe Fiona's roommate to leave the room for the night and let them have it all to themselves. Four years fly by and in the end they come out even stronger than they were when they went in.

—

3. Their first apartment is not nearly as glamorous as Fiona had hoped, but Imogen loves it to pieces. It's a bit shabby, with exposed brick and, _oh_, exposed piping, too, and the bedroom is barely big enough to fit a twin bed in it, but Imogen cheerfully claims that it just means more snuggling for them. They have a dresser to share and one small closet and Fiona realizes, sadly, that she'll have to downgrade yet again. The things she does for this girl.

Imogen fills their bookshelves with tattered copies of her favorite novels and knick knacks that Fiona distinctly remembers from her bedroom in high school and her dorm room. Soon after plants fill the small windowsill in their kitchen and giving the place a cheerful glow. In no time, Imogen decides that the entire apartment needs a new coat of paint and everything that they've set up comes right back down.

Somehow Fiona gets roped into spending an entire Saturday afternoon painting their new kitchen (which is about the size of a matchbox, if she's being honest, and she and Imogen can't move at all without bumping into one another) a bright, sunshine yellow. More often than not Fiona finds herself staring at Imogen's face as she paints: at her furrowed brow, at the tip of her tongue that pokes out of the corner of her mouth, at the splash of paint on her cheek. It takes them hours but they finally finish and Imogen steps back admiring the entire thing, not the least bit bothered that she's done most of the work. She wraps her arms around Fiona's waist, blatantly ignoring her girlfriend's protests about the expensive material that Imogen is staining with paint and kisses Fiona's neck. "Look," she whispers, "it's our little apartment."

—

4. Surprisingly, it's Fiona who brings home the dog. It's a scruffy little thing that she found on the side of the road that looks like it hasn't seen a proper meal in weeks, let alone a bath or a good petting. Imogen falls in love with it right away, names it Skip ("How have you never seen that movie, Fi?" she asks incredulously, and makes a mental note to force her girlfriend to watch it later in the week), and within a day or so Skip is the spiffiest looking dog one could ever see.

The veterinarian says that Skip is a Dandie Dinmont Terrier, and neither Fiona nor Imogen has ever heard of that particular breed. Fiona stares at the vet, wondering if he's trying to make a joke, but according to a quick Google search she makes when they arrive home, no, no, he isn't. "Im, come look at these things!"

Imogen ambles over, a cookie in her mouth and another in one hand and leans over Fiona's shoulder, peering at the screen. She snorts rather unattractively when she sees the pictures of the dogs, spraying cookie on Fiona, who makes a face and spins around to face her. "Um, ew?" Imogen at least has the decency to look sheepish before offering her other cookie as a peace offering. Fiona rolls her eyes and declines it before turning back to her laptop.

"Is Skip really going to have that - that thing on his head? I mean, it looks like an afro."

"Well, wait, that one looks cute! And it doesn't have an afro!"

"Are we going to have to shave it or something?"

"Oh my God, only we would get a dog that needs to have its afro shaved regularly."

—

5. Eli is the one who proposes. No, wait, that sounds wrong. But it is true. Eli is the one who jokingly tells the two of them that they should just get it over with, get married and make it official - it's been, what, seven years now? - and Fiona and Imogen just happen to take him up on it.

Any wedding that Fiona Coyne is a part of will be nothing short of a lavish affair, which clashes slightly with her fiancee's (_God, _she loves saying that) tastes, but in the end, they work out a guest list that includes all of their family, Degrassi friends, university/college friends, work friends, and others.

They get married on a warm June night at the - wait for it - Toronto Zoo.

The Toronto Zoo, of all places, because that's where Imogen has her heart set and Fiona has a hard enough time saying no without the pouting and the promise of tons of sex thrown in there, and so she reluctantly agrees. The wedding planner does the best she can to make it look as classy as possible, and Fiona thinks that they pull it off.

The only hitch in their plan is trying to figure out last names. Fiona Moreno? Imogen Coyne? Fiona Coyne-Moreno? Imogen Moreno-Coyne? They throw out the hyphenated names almost immediately, and find that they like both of the last names too much to really decide between the two of them. They end up tossing a coin.

So, on June 15th, 2021, Mrs. and Mrs. Imogen and Fiona Moreno, ages 25 and 26, get married in front of two hundred of their closest friends and family. Holly J, Fiona's maid of honor, doesn't even try to stop crying when the two of them kiss, and Eli, Imogen's "man of honor" rolls his eyes good-naturedly when the kiss goes on for more than a few seconds.

Later, when the two of them are in bed together, alone, after all of the festivities are done, Imogen traces the slope of Fiona's nose, and Fiona exhales shakily, eyes closed. "I'm just really - "

"I know," Imogen says, smiling. "Me too."

—

6. The day Imogen tells Fiona that she wants six kids is the day Fiona considers flinging herself out a window. Or finding the nearest bottle of vodka. She's not sure which one would be worse.

But, like the responsible twenty-eight year old she's supposed to be, she sets down her bag, pinches the bridge of her nose, and asks, "Why did you have to blind side me with that the second I got home from work, Im?"

"Why not?"

Imogen works for an art studio downtown and so her hours are pretty flexible. She brings in quite a bit of money, so there's no argument there, but Fiona's nine to five schedule is much more rigorous. She somehow managed to land an internship at a low-budget fashion magazine straight out of college and worked her way up from there, eventually becoming a columnist for one of the more popular fashion magazines in the area. She's not quite at recognizable-on-the-street level yet, but if someone mentioned her name at a party, there's a good chance someone might know her.

"Maybe we should sit down and talk about this more, you know? I mean - _six _kids?"

Imogen moves to the couch, not-so-gracefully knocking her knee against the coffee table as she goes, and scoops up Skip, settling in against the cushions. "Six just seems like a good number. They'd always have a lot of brothers and sisters to play with!"

Fiona takes the seat next to Imogen and reaches out to absentmindedly play with Skip's ears before shaking her head. "No to six kids, Imogen. Two or three, yeah, but no to six."

Fiona swears, Imogen's face lights up like a Christmas tree, and then poor Skip is being shoved aside and suddenly Fiona is being pushed back against the couch and Imogen is hovering over her, knees planted on either side of Fiona's waist and hands on either side of her face. How they went from talking about kids to this is beyond her, but she's not complaining.

—

7. As it turns out, Fiona is the one who has to be talked out of the really, really weird names for their kids. Imogen has a few of her own, but apparently Fiona's middle names have influenced her naming preference as well.

"I think Easton is a perfectly nice name for a boy!" she argues, holding up her piece of paper, a list of names neatly written in a column. The two of them had agreed to write down ten names they liked and to go through them, crossing off the ones that the other didn't like.

Imogen shakes her head. "No names that can be last names, Fi. How about Gavin?"

"Gavin is too trendy. No son of mine will be named anything tacky. Maddox?"

"Fiona, are you even trying anymore?"

Fiona puts down her piece of paper and stares at Imogen, one eyebrow arched. Imogen knows this look well: it can mean one of two things, and since Fiona's not taking off Imogen's shirt, it means she's not happy. "Are you saying that you don't like any of my names?"

Imogen takes off her glasses and rubs the bridge of her nose, sighing. "Okay. Can we compromise? I'll pick the first name for the first kid and you pick the middle name, and you pick the first name for the second kid and I'll pick the middle name."

Fiona mulls this over and finally agrees on it, although it takes a bit more wheedling from Imogen. Twelve years of being with Imogen has her completely and utterly whipped at this point, although she does still have her fighting spirit when it comes to certain things.

Which is how on July 12, 2025, Joel Eamon Moreno is born, all seven pounds, eleven ounces of him screaming at the top of his lungs. He has Fiona's blue eyes, Imogen's nose, and a mix of their dark hair color. Fiona opted for a traditional Gaelic middle name, considering that was where she and her brother got their names, and Imogen ended up using one of the names that she had treasured since her childhood.

Joel is absolutely perfect, even if it means sleepless nights where Imogen kicks Fiona awake to go and feed him when he's wailing, or when Imogen has to spend hours trying to calm him down when he's teething. Imogen is right there with her camera to catch every moment of his life, from his first bite of solid food to his first word - Fifi, which leaves the most adorable stunned look on Fiona's face that Imogen could never imagine being replicated - to his first step. Somewhere along the line, his dark blue eyes lighten to resemble Fiona's even more and his hair turns a bit reddish, which throws his mothers off, but passing strangers compliment them on how much he look like Imogen. It doesn't bother Fiona in the least.

When Joel is two years old and sitting in his high chair, Fiona desperately trying to feed him his spaghetti without him throwing it all over the place, Imogen sits on their counter and watches the two of them. She's thirty two now, has a successful career, a house, a dog, a hot as _hell _wife, an adorable son...she pretty much has it all. The weird girl in high school who had no friends and who thought she had no hope of ever making anything of herself is now happier than she ever thought possible and it's all because of this beautiful, wonderful, perfect woman in front of her.

Who currently has spaghetti sauce dripping down the front of her shirt, courtesy of their giggling son. As Fiona blinks in surprise, Imogen can't help but notice that there's also spaghetti stuck in her hair. She slides off the counter to help her out, pulling it off of her hair gently before kissing Fiona's temple and whispering in her ear, "You make me really happy."

Fiona glances up in surprise before responding sarcastically, gesturing to her chest. "Even when I'm covered in food?"

Imogen nods. "Even when you're covered in food." She turns to go into the other room to grab a wet wash cloth to clean Joel up and find a new shirt for Fiona, but pops back around the doorframe, grinning. "Oh, and I think we should have another baby."

—

8. Their second is a bit more of a complicated pregnancy than Joel ever was. Fiona carries this time and her morning sickness is ten times worse than Imogen's ever was, but her wife is as attentive as possible, making sure that she can do whatever she can to make sure Fiona is comfortable.

The big shocker comes at their twelve week appointment when it's confirmed that Fiona is carrying twins. Imogen actually faints and Fiona doesn't know whether or not to laugh or cry at her wife's typical reaction, but when Imogen comes around second later, she puts on a brave face and pretends like it never happened. After the initial shock wears off, the two of them can only see the silver lining in the situation. Two more babies! Twice the fun! Joel can have two siblings to play with!

They make more than enough income, they think, to handle two more kids. It's just the fact that they'll have to take time off to take care of all three of them at once that's the issue, and although they'll get paid leave for at least fifteen weeks (thirty five weeks if they can work around that pesky paternal part), but Imogen's optimistic personality makes Fiona feel like they can do anything.

Anastasia Vienna and Juliette Florence (Fiona chose the first names because they were old classics; Imogen chose the middle names because they were places that she had always wanted to visit but had never had the chance to, and no amount of convincing could change her mind) are born September 2, 2030, when the both of them are thirty five.

Taking care of a five year old and newborn twins is the biggest strain on their relationship that the two of them have ever had to deal with. They've never had fights like this before, fights that get so intense that they have to wait until the kids are asleep and doors are shut and the yelling has to be toned down to whispering so that they don't wake up Joel, Anastasia, or Juliette.

They barely sleep yet again and walk around like zombies. Imogen will take Anastasia and Fiona will take Juliette, tend to their needs, pray that Joel will stay asleep, and then try to get as much sleep as they can before their kids wake up again. They're hardly intimate anymore and when they are, it's rushed. Their playfulness has stopped.

Fiona has coffee with Eli on the rare occasion that she can get out of the house and asks for his advice; he and Clare have yet to have children and after hearing her stories he seems thankful for it. He gives her some sage advice though, saying that maybe they need a date night out to get reacquainted and that this will blow over when their kids get older. He even offers to babysit a few nights for when she and Imogen need their help.

Fiona decides to take him up on that offer.

Eli and Clare take all three kids one night and Fiona sets up a nice dinner for her and Imogen and to her surprise there's no tension, no awkwardness like she had expected. They fall right back into their routine and, even better, right back into bed.

"I missed this," she confesses, tangled up in Imogen, her eyes searching her wife's.

"Me too," Imogen says softly, reaching forward and tangling a hand in Fiona's curly hair.

Fiona's heart pounds in her chest and she blurts out her worst fear, the thing that's been gnawing at her for the past few weeks, the thing that's been haunting her. "I was scared you fell out of love with me, that you wanted to leave, that you wanted to get - "

Imogen cuts her off with a searing kiss, rolling over so that she's on top of Fiona, straddling her, hands on either side of her head. Her eyes are intense as they stare into Fiona's. She's angry. God, she's so, so angry.

"Fiona Celestine Arabella Coyne. Never. Ever. _Ever. _Say that again. I will never fall out of love with you. I will never want to leave you. I will never want to - ugh, I don't even want to use the d-word. I want you forever and always even if we do fight about stupid things and even if we look like total messes at three in the morning because our twins don't care what time it is except that it's feeding time or if we have to sneak quickies in between nap times against the kitchen sink because you are the most stunning girl I have ever seen in my life and I fell in love with you when I saw you in that drama class eighteen years ago and I haven't stopped since and I won't stop ever because you are the love of my life."

Fiona stares back up at Imogen and then huffs. "Well, what am I supposed to say to that? Because anything I say to that pales in comparison."

"Just say you love me."

"Imogen Moreno, I love you more than you could possibly imagine."

—

9. The years seem to fly by. Their kids grow up so quickly that it seems like Fiona and Imogen blink and suddenly Joel is graduating high school. He's grown up to be a strapping 6'1, all broad shoulders and muscle, a football playing type of guy who's had a steady girlfriend for the past two years or so that Imogen and Fiona really enjoy. She's sweet enough, but the two of them are pretty sure that they won't last past the first year of university. The Moreno family claps the loudest when Joel crosses the stage to graduate and he flashes them all a smile and a thumbs up, and Juliette, the louder of the twins, stands up and lets out a loud whoop. Fiona tries to shush her, but Imogen just rolls her eyes and pushes her wife's hand down, all for letting her daughter express herself.

Anastasia and Juliette aren't opposites, exactly, but there are definitely personality differences. Anastasia is more of a popular girl, a cheerleader who likes to make friends with everyone and be liked no matter what. Juliette is friendly enough with everyone but is more with the drama crowd. Their personalities are still developing, seeing as how they're still in middle school, but both of them are good kids; they don't get into trouble at all, unlike their older brother, who had a few run-ins with the police when he was sixteen or so. Minor incidents, but Fiona and Imogen nearly had heart attacks when they found out about them. He seems to have straightened himself out and he's going to the University of Toronto on a football scholarship, so they're quite happy about that.

Imogen leans over to clasp Fiona's hand and whisper in her ear. "Remember when we crossed that stage thirty years ago?" Fiona groans.

"Don't say that! You make me sound so old..."

"I hate to say it, but you are getting old, babe. You're 48."

"I can't be there already! I still have two kids who are about to go to high school! I don't want to be one of those old moms!"

"You're going to be one of those moms who needs a walker at her kids' graduation," Imogen teases.

Fiona narrows her eyes at her wife of twenty-two years. "It's not too late for a divorce, you know."

"You would never."

A heavy sigh. "No. No, I wouldn't."


End file.
